


Show a Little Loving

by stilinskitrash



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, Banter, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Multi, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Private School, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Unrequited Crush, more tags to be added probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-03 22:45:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15828459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilinskitrash/pseuds/stilinskitrash
Summary: If only he hadn’t tried tackling Morita--which he wouldn’t have if he hadn’t been trying to look good on the soccer pitch in front of the training seventh years. Okay, if he hadn’t been trying to look good in front of James Barnes, Southview Institute's resident bad boy-cum-heartthrob.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i!! love!! high school!! aus!!! especially boarding school ones!!!!! i hope how their school works makes sense,, basically there's seven years with first year being the equivalent of year 7 in the UK and 6th grade in the US,, so work it out from there  
> chapters r gonna be short 'n sweet ! updates will be,,, sporadic  
> fic title from lovers by anna of the north

It was broken. His ankle was really broken.

 

He was sure it was; there wasn’t any blood but it hurt like a  _ bitch  _ and Steve knew it didn’t have to bleed to be broken. If only he hadn’t tried tackling Morita--which he wouldn’t have if he hadn’t been trying to look good on the soccer pitch in front of the training seventh years. Okay, if he hadn’t been trying to look good in front of James Barnes, Southview Institute's resident bad boy-cum-heartthrob.

 

People gathered round as he clutched his throbbing ankle, willing himself not to get upset as he hissed through his teeth. Why had he agreed to do sport, again? He was becoming a spectacle, but standing up on his own was a no-go.

 

“Rogers, can you get up?”  _ Obviously not _ . But the coach was asking anyway, peering down at him with about as much interest as a squashed bug.

 

“I think it’s broken.” he managed, earning a  _ tsk  _ from Morita who Steve threw a dirty look. The older students on the other pitch had now stopped what they were doing to look on at the skinny blonde kid who’d been taken out no more then ten minutes into the soccer game.

 

“Hey, what’s going on, coach?” 

 

Steve nearly gave himself whiplash. 

 

Tony Stark was looming over him, having materialised seemingly out of nowhere--AKA the other pitch. He was in some very short shorts with a white hem, sweatbands on his wrists and a loose basketball tee hanging off his chest. Of course, his signature tinted glasses hadn’t left his face, even for sport. Steve was pretty sure he didn’t even play basketball, but Tony Stark could pull off (and convince you of) anything.

 

And right behind Tony, wringing his wrists boredly, was James Barnes, his hair tied up in an endearing little bun. Steve blushed furiously, ducking his head and accidentally gripping his leg tighter.

 

“Kid tripped, is all.” the coach dismissed, waving his hand. “Rest of you, back to the game. Or it’s laps for the rest of the session.”

 

The crowd reluctantly dispersed from the stare-at-Steve Rogers show, except for the shadows of two figures.

 

“Need a hand?” and Tony Stark held one out. Steve stared at it like Tony had punched him in the face.

 

Tony turned to James, “is he deaf? Should I get Clint to interpret?”

 

Steve shook his head hurriedly, “no, no, I can hear.” He stretched out with the strength he could muster to reach Tony’s palm, and found himself quickly using him as a crutch.

 

“Hey, your name, kid? What’s your name?”

 

Before his mouth could fully form the word, someone had beaten him to it. “Steve.”

 

This was all a lucid dream, right? Sam had slipped him some drugs during lunch. James Barnes didn’t  _ actually  _ know his name. 

 

He found James looking at him with an expression that read as both amused and intrigued, and Steve was ready to melt right into him. Where Tony’s sportswear was light and bare, James wore grey joggers and a maroon coloured hoodie, juxtaposing his friend. The two both looked ridiculous together, but Steve was almost intoxicated by them.

 

James backtracked due to the look Tony gave him, “I heard someone say it before.”

 

“Alright, well will you take him to the infirmary? You’ll be able to carry him better. Not that there’s much to him. He might blow away if you’re not careful.”

 

_ Wow. They’re making jokes. About _ me.  _ Wow. James knows my  _ name _.  _ Steve was either dreaming or delirious from the pain. He was leaning on Tony with almost his full weight, and when he felt himself be transferred into James’ care he instantly noticed a difference. James supported Steve’s weight better, holding his shoulders up at a more comfortable angle. He smelled like burning wood and possibly cinnamon, and suddenly those were Steve’s favourite scents in the whole world.

 

“Thanks, Buck. Catch up later.”  _ Buck _ . God, it was cute. Steve wanted nickname privileges. 

 

All the way to the infirmary, neither said another word. James practically carried him the whole way, and Steve had no complaints. He’d barely spared a thought for his ankle, which hurt as if he’d been shot as soon as James helped him onto a bed in the infirmary.

 

James ran a hand through his hair as he redid the topknot, and Steve didn’t even hear when the matron spoke to him. 

 

“You gonna be okay?” James asked, arching a brow. Steve nodded dumbly. The older boy didn’t seem to buy it, and a smile tugged at his lips. His heart goddamn fluttered. “Alright then. See you around, I guess.”

 

Steve almost fell off his bed in a daze as his body made to follow James out of the infirmary before his head could, the matron having to push his shoulders back and down onto the bed to steady him.

 

He wasn’t angry at Morita for the dirty tackle anymore. If James Barnes stepped in to save him everytime he played sports, Steve would vouch to do it more often.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We had a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so weird calling bucky james lol it'll change eventually ;))

“And he carried you to the infirmary? Just like that?”

 

Steve stared up at the ceiling of his dorm room, rewinding the event in question mentally. “Yeah.”

 

“Wow,” Sam whistled, grinning with his knees folded against his chest on his own bed, “written the wedding invites yet?”

 

He tried to quell a furious blush. “Shut up.” It wasn’t like Steve hadn’t already thought what his dormie was currently thinking; this was all an over reaction, it didn’t mean anything, James was just being kind. That was more reasonable to believe, but not as easy for Steve. Well,  _ fuck him _ for having hope, for being a romantic. “We had a moment.”

 

His best friend nodded slowly, “sure, sure. Was it a more Jack teaching Rose to fly in  _ Titanic  _ moment or a  _ Say Anything _ boombox scenario?”

 

Steve launched his pillow at Sam from across the room, who ducked just in time as he spilled into laughter. “Look, I’m sorry man. I’ll stop teasing, I know you like Barnes. I just don’t want you getting your hopes up about this being a  _ thing _ .”

 

He hated when Sam was reasonable. He liked party Sam, Sam Wilson who flooded the boys locker rooms on the last day of fifth year, or Sam Wilson who somehow didn’t get caught after blasting the  _ Fresh Prince of Bel Air  _ theme tune over the schools’ speakers. 

 

“I get it.” Steve sighed glumly, slumping down beside him. He had a limp now--there hadn’t been much the matron was able to do except hand him an ice pack. 

 

“Anyway, it’s prep in, like, five minutes, man. Weren’t you supposed to meet Natasha at ten past?”

 

Steve shot up. “Shit. Fucking shit, yes. Oh, shit!” Scrambling for his notes on the other side of the room, he snatched up his stuff and a jumper with far too many holes in before hauling as out of the dorm, almost right into another student. “Sorry, sorry!” he called over his shoulder as he ran in the direction of the library, dodging past confused kids and cutting corners in hopes of reaching Nat before the bell rang for prep.

 

At one minute till prep, Steve slid without grace into the completely silent library. Appropriately earned glares followed him as he speed walked towards a familiar redhead at a table on the far end, his shoes squeaking on the polished floor.

 

“Nat, I’m so sorry. I got caught up, I--”

 

She snapped her head towards him, finger pressed to her lips. “Want to make anymore noise?” she hissed with a sarcastic smile.

 

Steve shook his head resoundly and sat down, placing his books down with hyper aware delicacy.

 

Natasha Romanoff was a sixth year student of the female variety who didn’t ignore Steve and his existence. Her family were old money, Russian bureaucrats (or so she claimed) who’d sent her away to study in America as soon as she could read. This left her with a twang of Russian in her accent and a distaste for talking about them. 

 

He wasn’t at all sure what he and Nat had in common. She was popular and aloof, Steve was a clumsily open book with a couple of close friends. She was slim and poised, Steve was slim and awkward--in every sense. But Nat was one hell of a trustworthy friend, and study buddy, so he didn’t question their alliance much.

 

Fifteen or so minutes into prep--which was mostly just Steve staring at his math homework, hoping it would solve itself eventually--a rumble of laughter and chatter disturbed the library.

 

Nat huffed beside him, and the pair peered up from their work to the cause of the ruckus. Tony Stark & Co had entered the room.

 

It was the usual seventh year suspects; Tony, now dressed in a prim and proper shirt and sweater vest. Clint Barton, sandy blonde hair and that kind of contagious  _ fuck-it _ confidence. Bruce banner, the reserved one, who had a habit of becoming this completely different person when drunk. Right beside Tony was the other James, AKA James Rhodes AKA Rhodey, who was handsome and suave and inseparable from Tony. Today, they were even accompanied by a rare indoor sighting of Thor Odinson, who was almost as ridiculous as his name. He was the nicest jock Steve had ever met, and he’d transferred to Southview a few years ago with his somewhat estranged brother from god knows where.

 

At the back of the pack was James Barnes, looking completely disinterested and carrying absolutely no studying materials with him.

 

Nat kicked him under the table.

 

“ _ What? _ ” Steve muttered, meeting Nat’s amused face.

 

“Nothing.” she smirked, looking back down at her homework casually.

 

Steve’s eyes flitted back up to the newcomers, but they were gone. Just as he was about to grab Nat’s attention again, the chairs at the table on the side opposite them squeaked.

 

He felt frozen to his seat as the six of them pulled out seats at his and Nat’s study table, all whispering too each other a few decibels too loud. James had situated himself almost directly opposite Steve, and now he had a library book in his hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big love always !!<3 sam has all my uwu's he's underappreciated in fics so i hope im doin him justice !!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> b-b-b-banter

Tony and Clint were quite obviously trying to get Nat’s attention, and it was pissing Steve off. 

 

He wanted to focus on studying, to distract himself from James, but they were distracting him from his distraction. The pair were whispering then throwing looks at her, climaxing with the scrunching up of a ball of paper and tossing it in her direction. It hit Nat on the hand she was writing her homework with, making her go suddenly very still.

 

“Can I help you with something?” she whispered, in a voice that appeared polite but that Steve knew was dangerous.

 

The two boys grinned, “I don’t know, can you?” Tony smiled widely, folding his arms across his chest.

 

Nat scoffed lightly, “if you’re looking for somewhere to assert your masculinity, I can direct you elsewhere. If that’s what you mean.” she said evenly, raising a brow as Steve suppressed a smirk.

 

Clint’s appearance faltered, but Tony was unmoveable. He hummed, “touche. Oh, hey, it’s the kid from earlier.” Tony’s attention had switched from Nat to Steve as if nothing had happened. “How’s the ankle?”

 

Steve’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. He struggled for any words at all, aware of their expectant stares and Nat’s confusion. James was reading the book he’d picked up as if he wasn’t even listening.

 

“Better.” he nodded. “I, uh, got an ice pack.”

 

“Ah, the marvels of modern medicine.” Tony sighed, reclining back on his chair with his hands behind his head. “At least an ice pack is one step up from a bag of frozen peas.”

 

“Pretty sure they gave me an ice pack when I broke my arm last year.” Rhodey mused. “It's not really been the same since--”

 

“Are you done?” Nat interrupted, staring at them expectantly. 

 

Rhodey shared a silent look with Tony, who was still facing Steve.

 

“Steven, right?” 

 

He shuffled awkwardly. No one called him Steven, not even his own mother. “Steve. Steve is fine. But thanks, for earlier.”

 

Tony shrugged nonchalantly, “I didn't do much. Barnes was the strength.” 

 

James looked up at them all for the first time, straight at Steve with an unreadable expression. Their eyes seemed caught in a deadlock for a moment whilst everyone was quiet, and Steve had to tear his eyes away.

 

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, thanks.” The smallest of smiles tugged at the corners of James’ mouth at that, humble and beautiful and it had Steve wanting to forever spiral looking into his eyes.

 

“You been doing charity work, Stark?” 

 

Natasha was staring daggers at Clint Barton.

 

“Putting up with your shit is enough charity work for a lifetime, Clint.” Tony sighed, and Thor let out a bellow of a laugh as if Tony had said the most hilarious thing, making everyone's heads look in the groups direction. 

 

The librarian looked pissed. 

 

Steve was settling back into attempting his homework when he heard James whispering to Tony, “hey, I've gotta go.” He forgot himself as he watched him get up and leave, part of him deflating after James had gone.

 

When he turned back to the table, Tony was smiling at him. Steve looked away awkwardly, worrying his lower lip. Prep couldn't come to an end any sooner.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading !!<3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> un-beta'd cause i live that wild life sorry for in-coherency

The weekend came around and Steve was itching to leave Southview even for a few hours. Fifth years and above had free time privileges that included leaving campus via the bus that ran by the school every few hours. He was planning to hit a few charity shops; his school sweaters were becoming worn at the elbows and he knew a place he could get Southview’s uniform for cheap in the local town.

 

Steve was a scholarship student. He didn't come from wealth like the majority of his peers, he'd gotten in on an Arts scholarship which majorly reduced the annual fees, but didn't help with subsiding the price of the uniform. Not that the uniform rules were that strict--white shirts, black pants, a black pinafore or tartan green skirt. School jumpers and sweater vests were optional but if you didn't wear one you couldn't wear a personal jumper or sweater. And no tie, thank god. 

 

A few other students Steve wasn't too familiar with waited at the bus stop just off campus, chatting with each other whilst Steve stood alone. He didn't mind, it was a sunny and warm fall afternoon, he could keep himself occupied thinking of what his next big painting should be.

 

“Fancy seeing you here.” Steve heard the gravel under foot approaching him before he heard the voice. 

 

_ Yeah, fucking fancy that _ . James Barnes was stripped of his school uniform, approaching Steve with his hands shoved in the pockets of his distressed jeans. His hair was loose, almost reaching his shoulders, and sporadically braided into little plaits.

 

“James.” Steve said airily, staring at the other boy. 

 

He cringed, “no, no. Call me Bucky, please.”

 

Steve thought his heart skipped a beat.  _ Nickname privileges _ . He'd call James whatever he wanted. And Bucky was too good to refuse.

 

“Bucky,” he tried the name out, trying to contain the smile spilling out of him. “I, uh, what are you doing here?”

 

Bucky’s face turned deadly serious. “Stalking you.”

 

“I-- Um--”

 

“Nah, I'm kidding.” Bucky grinned, punching Steve’s shoulder playfully. “Wanted to pick up some stuff in town. You?”

 

Steve faltered. A  _ big _ part of him didn't want Bucky to see him as a charity case. Only Sam and Nat knew he was a scholarship student. He'd never let them help him, never let them pay for anything even if it seemed insignificant, because he was perfectly fine--and stubbornly adamant--that he could support himself. Bucky was from money; everyone had heard of the Barnes’, they owned some huge distillery in the south and a handful of breweries across the country. 

 

If he told Bucky he was heading to town to get some secondhand uniforms and clothes, he was paranoid he’d look at him differently. And he  _ really _ liked how Bucky was looking at him right now.

 

“Just needed to get out of here for a bit.” He shrugged, which wasn't exactly a lie. Just a slight omitting of the truth.

 

Bucky nodded, “I get that. School is intense, but good friends make it easier. You and Romanov close?”

 

It was a struggle to conceal the cringe that came across Steve’s face. Such an innocent question felt like a stab in the gut and even though he knew he was overreacting, Steve’s mind was already leaping to conclusions. Such as, Bucky only talking to Steve to get to Natasha--not the first time that had happened.

 

His gaze fell to the floor, where he kicked aimlessly at a stone. “Uh, yeah. Me and Nat are close.” He practically mumbled the words.

 

“She your girlfriend?”

 

Steve’s head snapped up. “ _ No _ .”

 

For some reason, that reaction made Bucky smile, and Steve only worried even more. “Look, if you’re after a date with her then you should just ask her yourself--”

 

“Woah, woah, woah.” Bucky laughed, holding his hands out as his face contorted into an amused frown. “What?”

 

If he could get his goddamn blush under  _ control-- _

 

“If you fancy Nat, I’m not-- I don’t want to play cupid.”

 

Bucky shook his head, so hard to read but finding what Steve was saying confusingly funny. “I mean, Romanov is, like, a knockout, yeah. But I was really just asking about your friends, Steve. No ulterior motives.”

 

Steve’s mouth hung open wordlessly. “Oh.”

 

“That happen a lot to you? People tryna get to her through you?”

 

He nodded tiredly, “as if she’s impossible to talk to.”

 

“She  _ is  _ pretty intimidating.” Bucky raised a brow at him as he shoved his hands into his pockets. The bus stop was filling up more now, with the bus sure to arrive any minute.

 

Steve grinned. “Yeah. She’s intense.”

 

“Maybe she’s had people trying to get to you through her, too.” He suggested, and Steve let out an almost instant scoff.

 

“I’m sure sick Victorian child is a very attractive look to  _ lots  _ of people.” Steve deflected sarcastically.

 

Bucky didn’t laugh. His lips parted in contradiction just as the bus pulled up, and a swarm of students racing to get on engulfed them. His head whipped around, searching for Bucky amidst the crowd piling onto the bus. A kid with a huge backpack pushed past Steve, swinging around to call to his friend and almost toppling Steve over with the bag at the same time. 

 

Someone’s cold hand wrapped around his wrist just as his feet slipped out from under him, holding him steady and pulling him towards them. Bucky’s grip on Steve’s wrist lingered as Steve found his footing, staring up at the other boy with wide eyes. This was a dream right? Steve had fallen into one of his dreams about Bucky; he must have.

 

Abruptly, Bucky dropped Steve’s wrist. He plastered a smile on his face, “c’mon, Rogers. Let’s not get left behind,” and he took off ahead, leaving Steve to restart his mind and chase Bucky onto the bus.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments make me v happy<33 contact me on tumblr (stacygwehn) or twitter (spidergwehn) !!!


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